I wanted to get a disability certificate for my son who is having autism and so I had to go to the government hospital. The bathroom was horrible and un-cleaned with lumps of shit and urine lying all around. As I was sitting in the psychiatric ward, there was a huge notice board and on it was written—number of people with STDS counseled—number of condoms distributed. A smile broke out on my lips.
Nothing much happened to me. Life went on like a boring breeze. My sleep has become better and I have cut down on cigarettes. I listened to a Facebook video by Joyce Carol Oates on the art of writing. Though very short, it was very interesting. A writer has to think and feel all the unsaid—the inner consciousness of the mind. A writer’s consciousness is very special. A writer is a person who is very sensitive. When overcome with feeling, when in the emotional cauldron of the mind, the first steps of planting the writing begins.
I had a strange dream. In it I was having intercourse with my wife. It’s not something to wonder about as my sex life is rather starved. Yes Freud is right; dreams are wish-fulfillment of desires.
I savored the beauty of the sunrise with a mystic passion. I heard the chirps and tweets of birds singing a fond lullaby.
I took an English Class for the 8th graders, the story being 6 Napoleons by Sherlock Holmes. I am not a big fan of pulp fiction, but I enjoyed the plotting of the story. Conan Doyle is a master of storytelling. In the story we find the busts of Napoleons being broken to rubble. Then we come to understand that it is the work of an escaped convict who had placed a priceless pearl in one of those busts. Sherlock Holmes discovers that the 6th Napoleon is to be burgled and makes a plan to catch the intruder. The robber is caught and Holmes smashes the head of the bust to recover the valuable pearl.
I read the Bible and in it the Story of Moses. Moses was born at a time when the Pharaoh persecuted the Jews and ordered that all the male children be beheaded. When Moses was a baby, his mother put him in a reed basket and placed him in the Nile. When the Pharaoh’s daughter saw the basket, she asked her maid to fetch it. She adopted the baby as her own son. The mother of Moses was called to look after her own son. When Moses was a young man, he saw an Egyptian hitting a Jew and then in a fit of anger, he killed him. When the Pharaoh found it out, Moses had to flee to Midian. There he married a Priest’s Daughter.
Goddess itch belonged to the tickly-too kingdom. She invaded my body and started irritating me. She spread her tentacles on my legs, on my back, on my face, and even on my balls. To get rid of her I decided not to bathe. At last she left me unable to bear my smell.
Today was a slow crawl. The singing of the birds was a pleasant incantation. I got the Bible—The Message woven with a new leather cover.
I started reading the story of Noah. Yes the quality that Noah had was obedience to God. After the ark was finished he and his family boarded the ship. It rained for 40 days and 40 nights and after that he sent a dove out of the ark and it did not return and then he knew that the rains had stopped. Yes Noah is a great architect of his time. Noah as an idiom stands for being a great architect and one who is obedient.
I took an English Class for the 8th Graders and it was Hands and Hearts by O Henry. It was a confusing story for the Children and let me explain why? The story starts with a pretty woman in a carriage and she is facing two handcuffed people. One of them was known to her, the younger, handsome one. The other was a brawny ruffian who did not want to make his co-partner embarrassed. It is said in the story that the woman was an acquaintance of the younger man. The ruffian then dialogues to the woman telling him, he is being escorted by a Marshall. The children were not able to understand why the police was not present. Then again the flaw in the story is, the writer describes the woman as getting out, and then only to tell that she is in the train. I told the kids when we read fiction we should have a poetic license. I have read many O Henry’s stories and I love the Last Leaf. But this story did not strike chords with my soul.
I also teach Geography. I love the interpretation of topographical maps as it provides an assessment based on understanding and interpretation. But the rest of the chapters are a bore as everything is dependent on what and why questions. For example: students have to cram the places from which ores exist. They have to digest water resources. They have to explain soil and transport and so on. The irony is that I have develop mnemonics to make them remember the mass collage of facts.
Borges the Writer is a sweet monster of the language known for circumlocution….I am his alter ego and he keeps communicating me from the grave. For the moon his favorite verb is: moonizes. She moonized her buttocks. He cunnilingulalized her. He naturalizes art. Poetize the world to live in an extreme state of passion. James Joyce epicualized one day of a man’s life. She labialized her and made her ecstasy. Mumbojumbolize the word. Literature ornamentalizes the world. Poeticize the world as art.
Morning cruised around smoothly. I took two classes of Geography, one the Geography of India and the other Geography of the World. I felt happy as the 9th and 10th graders were active and attentive.
It’s evening now and I am looking at the colored sky, the setting of the sun, all melodious epiphany. Yes, we can learn the art of the novel by looking at nature.
I pondered on certain Biblical thoughts mainly the concept of sin. All humans are sinful because of the Sin of Adam and Eve. But there’s a difference. A child who dies won’t be punished for the sin of Adam and Eve and will partake heaven. The second sin is the sin from knowledge, a deliberate, scheming sin such as adultery, murder, covetousness and the whole lot. A mature human can be judged in Heaven based on the sin committed by willful knowledge.
I also thought about death. Though I was an atheist, the fear of death made me a theist. The dreams I had of monsters are very frightening. I have a fear-phobia-complex. I sometimes think that any moment that I might die. I also think that I might have an accident. I am also afraid of committing suicide.
What is the Manna for writing? The sounds, sights and smells of nature are favorite tools for a writer. Writing is like: in Wordsworth’s words: I wandered lonely as a cloud. The colors of the sky are singing a synaesthesia. Nature is the embodiment of the soul and becomes a text for writing. The manna of the clouds poured a celestial music. The brook played the Song of Songs. The waves frolicked in laughter. Wind kissed my cheeks making me glow with joy. Thunder grumbled in rage.
Writing is a painting of words. Writing bequeaths art in the form of figures of speech. Syria is a wailing banshee. The sword of Damocles hangs precariously over Hong Kong. A white beard covered the earth. Fortune is a Goddess of luck. The ribs of freedom started protesting. Seasons are a joy of music. I have a money-empty pocket. Rock-bulldozing rhythm makes the brain go berserk. Cure the tempest of my mind with an apothecary. Palestine let nectars of freedom fly as dove making a homeland to live. Dramatize life on the stage of the theater. Let not the poison of angst become the dread of your soul. Let dreams be saddled by fortune’s wand. Eye not lust: Eye Love. Patience is a wretch of oppression. The heart is a nation o love. Slam a fist on corruption. My neurons are a punch bag.